


Tangled Webs

by Yidenia



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Flash (TV 2014), infinity war - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Barry Allen, Protective Caitlin Snow, Protective Cisco Ramon, Protective Oliver Queen, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yidenia/pseuds/Yidenia
Summary: After returning to life with the defeat of Thanos, Peter came back shaken from his death, and unsettled with new knowledge suggesting the deaths of his parents may not have been an innocent accident after all. Troubled by what he had learned when half the world was dust, he embarks on a quest to determine the exact circumstances surrounding the plane crash that had left him an orphan. His investigation leads him to Central City, where former CSI Barry Allen has come across troubling evidence of a ten-year-old conspiracy that threatens the space-time continuum. Team Flash and Team Arrow must unite their resources to stop the disaster in a way that doesn't cause chaos.Now if only they could get this genius teenager out of the way without also ticking off Iron Man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Really wanted to have these two meet, for some reason. Not sure how the reception's gonna be. Thoughts? Let me know :) Posting this to see how it goes.

_12:02am._

Peter wished wryly that he could wear his suit; he could really use those internal heaters that Mr. Stark had installed. Unfortunately, ever since Ned hacked the original spider suit, Tony Stark had become wise to them, and had Friday monitor for any anomalies in Karen's protocols. Since Peter was out on personal business and really did not want anyone tracking him, wearing the suit was absolutely not possible, so he had to make do with a regular hoodie and jeans.

Not ideal in this weather, but that was the price for privacy these days.

At least it was not raining, but it was humid and a storm threatened in the distance. Central City was not really bustling the way New York would, but the lights were just enough to glance off the clouds. The trip home will not be easy, and there was a good chance that Aunt May might realize something was wrong.

Not for the first time, Peter wondered if he should have let the matter rest. The past should often stay in the past. He had Aunt May. He had his friends. So long as he continued to do good work in school, he had high hopes for a stellar career. If he was careful on his patrols, he had Spider-Man.

Yet Peter had also heard that history repeats itself, that the past affects affects the future, and the truth must always come out. Just as his aunt learned about Spider-Man, and very likely, the world will learn about him too.

_12:03am._

Peter looked out to the chilly autumn night, took a deep breath, and started walking, leaving the warmth of the train station. Around him were some other passengers, many pulling wheeled luggage, but they all hailed taxis at this hour and gradually dispersed, leaving behind only the shadowy figures of the homeless and others who crept in the dark corners of the city.

His spider-senses tingled faintly, though initially the others on the streets left him alone. He was walking with purpose, Peter knew, and with his hoodie on it was difficult to say whether he was a kid or an adult. He walked with his head high, to show no fear; muggers can pick and choose their targets, and they were as lazy as anyone else if they could get away with it.

Eventually, they fade.

Peter looked up. There were skyscrapers here. They loomed tall, vaguely resembling the buildings in Manhattan, but also alien, largely unfamiliar. This was not his home.

He raised his arm and fired.

The web caught, stretched, and contracted, heaving Peter up with it. With his other hand, he secured the strap of his backpack. The line swung him close to the side of the building, so he used his feet to bounce further up with the momentum.

Within seconds, he was above it all, and it was not completely unlike New York, Spider-Man in between the stars above and the glittering street lamps below. On the ground, the cars were small and the people were smaller, facing straight ahead or down, ignoring what was on top of them, so that Spider-Man, without camouflage, without the cover of night, without any need for stealth or subtlety, flew, watched, and guarded unbeknownst to all but those he chose to accost.

But this was not his city. This city belonged to the Flash, a blur that moved too quickly to be seen. As far as Peter knew, the Flash had it all in hand, and based on his own experiences, there was always a system with such things. It would not do for Spider-Man to meddle with another's turf and disrupt someone else's rhythm and field of play.

Not to mention, Spider-Man was not technically here.

He turned his attention from the ground to the rest of the city and pulled the map forward in his head. One problem with not being able to bring his phone was the fact that he could not look up directions; he brought a map, but he hesitated to open his backpack this high up when he needed to stick to the wall with at least an arm and a leg. Papers might not kill anyone from this height, but the harder objects might, and Peter did not want to be without his extra web fluid, Uncle Ben's Swiss Army knife, the UV light he stole from the school's biology lab, or the automatic lock-pick Peter had built using materials he stole from Mr. Stark's lab. A feat, considering the presence of Friday and the bots, in addition to the man himself, who had become something of a thorn in the side lately.

Signs were close to the ground, however. With many of the stores closed, the names were also dimmed, which meant web-slinging in the right direction was going to require some guesswork. Peter glanced up to look at the sky, but though Central City was not quite Times Square, it was still too bright to navigate by the North star.

Cities have parks, though, and they were flat blocks of terrain in an otherwise concrete jungle, no matter if it was New York, Philadelphia, Star City, or Central City. Central may not have an actual Central Park, ironically enough, but it does have the occasional dimple and mark here and there. Peter climbed higher, squinting in the dark.

The layout in one direction looked promising. Peter took a deep breath, made sure his backpack was secure, and jumped.

The river became more apparent after swinging for about a minute, and STAR Labs, a saucer-shaped facility that looked a little reminiscent of the Millennium Falcon, sat like a dark rock on the bank. The view must be beautiful; the water was right there, so the building did not have to be very high to see it. Nearby, a bridge connected the banks on each side, small lights illuminating the pillars.

It would have been nice to work in a place like STAR Labs, Peter mused. Too bad the accident from a few years ago lost the institution much of its credibility. Not that Harrison Wells seemed to be the sort of person to work for, as about a year later, before he died, he had left a video confessing to the murder of Nora Allen. Much of the facility seemed to be in a state of disrepair, though from accounts, it was still up and running, if only on the barest level. Doubtless, the inheritor, Barry Allen, would have trouble getting funding; he was not even a Ph.D., as far as Peter knew, and did not seem to have gone to great lengths to restore the institute's reputation.

The doors were locked. Like most science facilities, entering required swiping in with the proper badge, which Peter did not have. There was a manual lock for the doors, however, so Peter took out his lock-pick. His lock-pick could probably be modified to work with the badge readers, because it did use magnets in addition to actual picks; Peter had gotten the idea from Dr. Who's sonic screwdriver, though he could not actually make his lock-pick in that shape or size. It was an ugly rectangular box with stuff inside and stuff outside, and certainly not anything Peter would dare to show off to Mr. Stark, but it did the job this time, and with a click, the door unlocked.

The lobby was, of course, dark, but even in the dim city lighting, Peter could tell the place was kept surprisingly clean for a facility that was barely open. Maybe they still hired janitors just to keep the basics running, though clearly the basics did not require a twenty-four hour security guard.

Nor a working computer, it seemed. Peter found himself wandering around, getting a little bit lost on the grounds. He did not think there would be a computer just out in the hall for someone to hack into, but he was hoping some of the rooms, which his automatic lock-pick was able to open just like the front door, might have one that was not out of commission, but between the lab benches and the half-built machines, there were few computers, if any. Those that Peter did find were so toasted that they would not even turn on.

When it was nearing two thirty in the morning, Peter felt his energy reserves come tumbling down. It was rapid and without any sort of warning. He was so tired that when he sat down in front of another computer he found in what looked like an old conference room, that he did not even have the strength to try to turn the thing on. His eyes were dry and his skin felt like rubber, somewhat numb and no longer part of him. He rubbed his face and yawned, then leaned forward to try to get the computer to work.

To his surprise, it seemed to turn on. There was that agonizing moment where the screen was black even as the hard drive started whirring, but then the monitor blinked, and immediately, without even a loading interval, the login screen was displayed.

Peter had recognized this would be a likely scenario, but at the moment his brain refused to work. He stared stupidly at it for a moment, before leaning his forehead into his hand, closing his eyes to try to think. Back when STAR Labs was legitimate, how anal would this place be about good passwords?

"…ugly, sure, but it still works really well, actually. I mean, this is something  _I_ would have made back when I—"

Peter jumped, abruptly aware that someone was lifting him off the table and pulling back the chair he was sitting on. He grabbed at the arm reaching across his chest, alarmed.

"Whoa there," said the black man. He looked about middle-aged, with a receding hairline that was graying around the edges. "Easy, bud. You're alright."

The transition from sleep to wakefulness was disorienting all by itself. Peter stared stupidly at the man.

Off to the side, a younger man was turning around to look Peter's way. In his hands was Peter's automatic lock-pick.

"Aw, see, I told you, he was gonna wake up if you move him. Aw, look at that face!"

"If I left him," said the black man, sounding wry, "it would become permanent."

"Kind of what he deserves for breaking and entering. And trespassing." A second, tall young white man was leaning against the table. Peter blinked.

Barry Allen.

"Do you all live here or something?" Peter exclaimed, shocked by this development.

"We might as well," said the first young man; Latino, from the looks of it, with black hair that reached his shoulders. He looked far too well put-together for someone up and about at four in the morning. In fact, all of them did. Including the white lady on the far side of the room. And the white lady next to her.

And the man.

Who was Oliver Queen.

 _Snap._ Peter had not been prepared for big-time folks to be around in a facility he thought was largely abandoned.

He was on his feet in the next instant, but this proved to be poorly timed because almost instantly, his vision went dark and he had to sit down again.

"I can't get over this," said the Latino man. "This has got to be the ugliest sonic screwdriver I have ever seen in my life."

"Cisco, put that down before you hurt someone."

"No one's gonna get  _hurt_ , Caitlin. Sheesh! It's a freaking lockpick. I love it. It's adorable. It's like, looking at my childhood."

"How, exactly, is the 'ugliest sonic screwdriver' reminding you of your childhood?" Oliver Queen drawled.

"Cuz only smart kids can make something so functional so ugly at the same time! Hey, kid, did you make this? You totally made this. You look like a nerd. I can so see you making this. I'd be sort of upset if you didn't."

Peter's mouth fell open. He had no idea what to say.

"Put the screwdriver down," said Barry Allen.

"How is that thing a screwdriver?" the black man sounded utterly baffled.

"I don't know why," said one of the white women, "but I kept thinking it was a screwdriver too. Even though it looks…not very much like a screwdriver. At all."

Cisco put the lock-pick down with a grumble, but the black man was turning Peter's chair around and eyeing him with the kind of glare Peter had only seen from Mr. Stark before.

"Don't make this hard, kid," he warned. "We know you're Peter Parker. You go to Midtown High in Queens, New York. You're tenth-grade going on eleventh and you should be studying for your SATs or whatever. More importantly, you should be with your  _aunt_ , or have some  _adult_ with you, so either I call her up, right now, to ask her what her nephew is doing all the way in Central City, trespassing on a science facility and trying to hack into secure servers, or you can just tell me yourself."

Peter opened his mouth, but one of the women—the blonde one, raised her hand.

"I did a background check," she explained before Peter could even voice the question. "Had a lot of practice."

"Not that she needs it," said Barry Allen.

"Stop feeding her ego," Oliver Queen remonstrated.

"I'm just telling the truth, man."

"Guys," said the black man, glaring at everyone else, before turning his imposing stare to Peter. "Well?"

Peter rubbed his eyes as he felt a swell of fatigue overtake him.

"I wasn't trying to do anything wrong," he confessed miserably. "I didn't know how to get in contact with anyone here. The website hasn't been updated and no one answers the phone numbers and there's, like, no email, no secretary,  _nothing_ for me to reach out to. Like, I thought this place is basically shut down."

"Well that much is obvious," said the black man, tones kinder now. "It's clear you don't know any better. That's why I'm not arresting you. But you shouldn't go around other people's property without knowing what you're getting into. This place is shut down for a reason. If something were to happen to you, what were you gonna do then, huh?"

"Nothing was gonna happen," Peter protested, though it was a weak attempt.

"Uh-huh," said the man. "What's got you in here at two in the morning, anyhow? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is that what you're here for?"

Peter hesitated, unsure how to answer. The adults around him were still, expectant. Even Cisco had gone quiet.

"My parents were killed," he finally stated, "and…and I recently learned that it was probably not an accident. And…and I needed to get evidence, find out the truth, before they bulldoze this place or something and I have nothing to find."

* * *

"Any luck?"

"Still staring."

"'Staring'?" Joe raised his brows as he followed Barry into the room.

"Apparently," Barry explained, "hacking Tony Stark's computer network involves a phase of 'staring at the screen trying to figure out where to start'."

"It generally only involves 'staring'," Felicity admitted, leaning on her elbows in front of Caitlin's monitor. "He's got an actual functional AI which you'd think should be as hackable as anything else, but it's actually way trickier."

"Cuz it can glitch," Cisco supplied from next to Felicity, in the same posture in front of his own monitor, "And if it glitches, it gives a clue. And if you have a human interacting with it, that human notices the clue. And tends to realize something's up. And then track us down. And then we're doomed, cuz it's Iron Man, and if he can program an AI, he can also hack us right back and make our lives miserable."

"Why are we trying to hack Tony Stark's network?" Joe asked.

"Cuz the kid's his protégé or something," Oliver replied from the other side of Felicity. "Street cameras have caught the kid sauntering into the Avenger's Tower every week and the man's even taken the kid out for pizza on the weekends."

"This kid knows Tony Stark?" Joe raised his eyebrows.

"Pretty well from the looks of it," said Cisco, still staring at his screen.

Aside from Cisco's enthusiasm about the lock-pick, Peter Parker was a fairly unassuming teenager. Quiet, a little morose, and a bit pale and thin, he seemed mostly resigned and exhausted, and he seemed generally unremarkable. One might even think he was a bit touched in the head, with the way he wandered around the halls of the upper floors without even a glance at the security cameras, but the boy's explanation made sense, Barry thought. If Barry had wanted to come to STAR Labs for something, he would not know where to start either, besides just walking in and hoping not to get in trouble for it.

What was a little stranger was the fact that Peter seemed to be here all alone. And that he made the effort to keep it that way. New York was far from Central City; it would have required a lot of planning for Peter to come here without supervision. Planning, and a lot of misleading the adults in his life.

And then, of course, a little digging into his background revealed that he was a close acquaintance of Iron Man.

"You think he's Tony Stark's son?" Joe asked.

"Aside from them both being geniuses, there's, like, no resemblance," Cisco declared.

"Still possible," Felicity tilted her head.

"But  _no_ resemblance." Cisco was rather fixated on that.

"If he is, he doesn't know," said Barry.

" _No_ resemblance."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Felicity asked.

"I just don't want all the geniuses in our universe to be related, okay?" Cisco protested. "It's weird. And creepy."

"…Okay then."

"Well, regardless, the only way Tony Stark being Peter's father would be useful is if he knows something about how the Parkers died," Barry leaned on the back of Cisco's chair. "Anything?"

"Still staring."

"Okay, forgive me for being slow here," Joe remarked, "but just because this kid may or may not be related to Tony Stark—I don't understand what that has to do with us hacking into his servers. Like…why can't we just call him up. Or better yet, his aunt, since she's his actual guardian."

"I have no better answer to give you other than that I get a feeling we don't want to do it quite yet."

Joe stared at Cisco, unimpressed. "You have a feeling that we shouldn't let a minor's guardian know that he broke into a science facility?"

Cisco looked up, his expression grave all of the sudden. "He's not a normal kid. And he has something to do with 616."

"…For real?"

"Yeah."

"Something's keeping Cisco from seeing as much as he usually would when he vibes," Barry went on, "but he saw Spider-Man and Iron Man, and the kid has something to do with them. Both need to be in Central City for some reason, and the key is through Peter. Anyway, it's not like forcing his aunt to pick him up now is going to make things so much better than calling her in the morning, and in the meantime, we'll figure out how he's related to either. And 616."

"Does he know something about 616? Should we ask him?"

Barry considered Cisco and Felicity. "…Might get us further than these two."

"I'd be insulted," Felicity declared, "except he's right."

Joe frowned. "We should ask his aunt, when she comes to pick him up."

"She might be in on it. If she is," Cisco clapped his hands together and zipped his lips shut. "Case colder than Pluto."

Joe looked between them. "Are we really that desperate?"

"No, but probably shouldn't mention 616 to his aunt. We didn't even mention it to him," Barry explained. "But we  _may_ need his help to hack Tony Stark's database. Once he wakes up."

Joe looked at Cisco and Felicity.

"Don't even start," Felicity raised a hand in a blocking gesture. "I'm getting ulcers just thinking about it."

"Utilizing moles is a perfectly legitimate method of hacking," Cisco defended.

"Better than the two of you staring uselessly at Stark's firewall," Barry snorted.

"Yeah, yeah…"

Before Barry could rib them further, Oliver opened the door, striding in.

"Where's the kid?" he demanded.

"Uh, upstairs?" Barry blinked. "What's going on?"

Oliver raised his cellphone. "Iron Man's coming. Time's up." He turned around.

Everyone was silent at the implications.

"Whoa," said Cisco. "You think he really is his son?"

Joe looked at everyone, unimpressed. "Why don't you ask the man himself?"

Barry snorted as Cisco squawked indignantly. "Well, there goes waiting until the morning. Let's go meet our guest upstairs."


	2. Chapter 2

Tony Stark was never one to mince on displays, arriving in full Iron Man armor before smoothly walking out of it as it retracted around him. At press conferences, he usually gave off an arrogant vibe to Barry, coupled with his sharp wit and sense of humor which made him entertaining to watch, even if he did not seem like the sort of man Barry would want to know in real life. He always seemed approachable, like the kind of person who would be willing to have some drinks and carelessly pat a kid on the head before striding off to do Tony Stark business, and if he was hard to get a hold of, or hold onto, at least he was not actually intimidating.

The Tony Stark that exited the suit was, in a word, frightening. Barry had seen his share of angry faces, but he had never seen the one that was directed at Peter Parker. The boy, understandably, shrank back at the sight, and Barry felt a little sorry for him.

If there was any doubt Tony Stark was emotionally invested in the teen…well.

"M-M-Mr. Stark!" the pipsqueak…well, squeaked. "Wh-What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I could ask the same of you, Underoos," Stark strode until he was right in front of the kid. "I know kids get up to strange things, but even I know that usually it's just some underage drinking and having unprotected sex at a party that gets way out of hand. What are you doing in Central City at four in the morning?"

"I-I-I—" Peter stammered, and then summoned a bravado out of nowhere. "It's got nothing to do with you, okay? It's—it's personal! What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have your own Iron Man business to take care of?"

"As a matter of fact, I do have Iron Man business to take care of. I'm taking care of it right now." Stark looked up at Oliver, whom Peter initially shrank against. He eyed the man for a second, and then his eyes flickered over to Barry. "Thanks for watching over him. I'm sorry that he trespassed on your facility."

"Well, we've all been up to no good when we were kids, yeah?" Felicity shrugged, though it was clear to everyone at hand that what was happening right now was beyond anything any of them had ever done. "It's only appropriate that we make sure they're okay."

"How'd you find me anyway?" Peter demanded angrily.

Barry would also like to know.

Stark, whose face had softened slightly for the purpose of civility, hardened in rage again.

"You've been acting weird. You think we didn't notice?"

"…Who  _hasn't_ been acting weird?" Peter pointed out sullenly.

Stark's face remained stony, but there was a glimmer of emotion in his eyes as Peter's dropped.

Even if the two were not biologically related, there was no questioning the nature of their relationship. It became even more apparent when the man began yelling at the boy.

"Even if that were the case with you, which we both know that it's not; why you even bother bringing it up is beyond me, unless you are really questioning my intelligence—but this is why we let people  _know_. You and I had an agreement, you were going to stay low to the ground. What if something went wrong on the way here? What if something went wrong  _here?_ You think Central City doesn't have thugs and criminals out and about at three in the morning? Or enhanced psychopaths, eager and willing to snatch up some hapless teenager who's too stupid to let his aunt know where he was going? What do you think it would do to May, huh? Have you thought about that? No, because you don't think about these things, you are always rushing—"

"I  _did—_ "

"—No, don't you dare talk back to me!" Stark's eyes were almost glowing with rage now. "Do you know what it did to your aunt? Do you know what it did to  _me_? I did  _not_ bring you back so you can lose it all over whatever teenage shenanigans you've concocted up that you couldn't even tell  _me_. This has nothing to do with the neighborhood, Peter Benjamin Parker, because you've spent the effort to leave entirely, so what is it, huh? What was worth all of this?"

Peter was silent. His shoulders were hunched. He still was not looking at Stark. Something about his posture seemed afraid.

Was he afraid of Stark, or something else? Barry looked at Oliver, and saw a glimmer of acknowledgment.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Oliver stepped around to attract the man's attention, "thanks for coming all the way out here. It's no trouble, really, he hasn't damaged anything. Do you want something to drink, water, tea, anything? I think everyone's a bit upset, and that's no way to travel, even in a cool Iron suit."

"I'll be fine. I'll take the kid home now. No need to impose on you all more than necessary."

"It's not an imposition," Oliver's jaw tightened as he stood right in front of Stark, firm and resolute. "Do you have guardian rights over him, Mr. Stark?"

Stark stared back, unimpressed. "No, but I'm qualified to bring him home. If you want, you can call his aunt."

"No!" Peter blurted. "Don't!"

Both men turned to him.

"Oh?" Stark's expression was angry again. "And why not?"

"It's none of her business! Look, I'll just go with you—"

"Excuse me?" Stark stalked toward Peter before Oliver could stop him. "Did you just suggest that you are not your aunt's business? It's four in the morning and you clearly haven't slept, but I didn't think your brain's melted  _that_ much—"

Peter looked close to tears. "Please, Mr. Stark, I'll tell you everything, please don't tell my aunt, it'll put her in danger—"

"Oh, yes, please, keep going, explain to me why I shouldn't let a woman know that her child is up to something that might place  _her_ in danger, that makes total sense—"

This kind of pressure was never going to deescalate the situation, so somewhat predictably, the boy dissolved into tears. Stark, high on righteous anger, seemed to realize that he had gone over the line. Barry stepped in his line of sight as Joe laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

It was funny how situations like these would not break down quite as much if the people involved had cared just a little less about each other.

"Hey," Joe murmured, "it's gonna be okay. If you're in trouble, we'll help you, okay? It's gonna be okay."

"Look, Mr. Stark," Oliver said to Iron Man, "I think everyone needs to cool down a little. You're worried, the kid's upset, there's nothing going on right now, we're not doing anything and as I said, he hasn't done any damage, to himself or anything else. Why don't we sit down, calm down, call his aunt—"

"No! You can't!" Peter cried out.

"Not your call, buddy!" Stark snapped, but he looked more worried than angry now. He was looking mainly at Joe, because he had heard what Joe said.

"Peter told us that he was looking into information about his parents' death," Oliver stated, drawing Stark's attention back to him. "His own investigations led him to this lab. Do you know anything that may shed light on this?"

Stark frowned and looked at Peter. "You were looking into your parents? Why didn't you tell me this?"

Peter glared, eyes still tearful, and his lips pressed together in determination.

Fortunately, Stark seemed to realize, just like every other adult in the room, that there might be a real reason why Peter was maintaining his silence. That did not mean it was a good reason, teenagers being teenagers, but it was meaningful enough to him.

"Okay," Cisco raised his hands, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm kind of tired of standing around; can we go somewhere where there are chairs? Preferably, like, a couch? Or at least a chair near a computer, so I can look up youtube videos of giant food while you guys hash this out?"

Barry stepped forward to Stark. "I realize you want to get your kid home, but we would appreciate some answers too."

Stark's eyes flashed. He was clearly taking this the wrong way. "You said he didn't damage anything. He's a child. He needs to go home. He doesn't owe any of you any 'answers'. I'll take responsibility for his actions."

Barry held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "It's not that. We were looking into what he told us, since the hour was so late. We found something that may be worth looking into, if you don't mind giving us a few minutes of your time."

"I'll give you however much time you want  _after_ I get the kid home."

 _Wow._ Tony Stark had a mother bear inside of him. Barry would honestly have never guessed, given the man's reputation even after he became Iron Man.

"I'm not leaving!" Peter sounded a little petulant. He looked at Oliver. "And what do you mean, you found something worth looking into? I wanna see—"

"Short stuff, one more word out of you—"

"Hey hey hey," Joe inserted, being the only person in the room with actual parenting experience, "everyone, chill. Look, Pete, this is obviously important to you, but your old man is right: the hour is late and you need to be  _home_ , especially since your aunt doesn't know you are here—"

"He's not my old man—"

"—and you know, the rest of us could get in a lot of trouble for not bringing you back to where you belong—"

"Be glad I'm  _not_ your old man, because he'd be  _so_ much more disappointed in you," Stark snapped.

 _Okay. Wow._ Everyone besides the New Yorkers exchanged a look with each other. Peter made a choking sound, and tears almost squirted from both eyes. Kicked puppy did not even begin to cover it. Joe looked at Barry and Oliver before looping an arm around Peter's shoulders.

"Being Captain of the Central City Police Department requires a particular set of skills," he said to Peter, but more for Stark's benefit, since he never had a chance to introduce himself. "One of them is the ability to make the best hot cocoa you have ever tasted. Why don't you and I head on over to the kitchens, and I'll give you the Joseph West special."

It worked, because Stark allowed the two of them to leave without a comment. Once they were out of sight, the man rubbed his forehead with one hand and sighed.

So that answered two questions: Tony Stark and Peter were not biologically related; and this did not matter.

Oliver slapped a hand on Stark's shoulder. "Come on. Let's talk."

* * *

"I have no clue what that is," Stark replied when Cisco brought up 616. "I've never even heard of such a thing, and more importantly, I have no idea why Peter would know anything about it."

He could be lying to protect Peter from more questioning, but the man looked genuinely perplexed, holding his chamomile tea in front of him like he had forgotten it was there.

"Do you know if Peter might have anything to do with Spider-Man?" Caitlin asked.

Stark stared at her. "Well, besides the two of them being in the same city? I mean, it's closer than whatever 616 is going on over here, that's for sure, but no. Besides geeking out over the arachnid heroics like everyone else in Queens. Why?"

The former was easier to explain, though it would be showing a hand that they had wanted to hold close to their chests. Still, given that they had mentioned 616 in the first place, it was not avoidable at this point.

"The old archives from the year STAR Labs was founded referenced a project, known only by its ID: 616," Barry told him. "The project addressed radiation poisoning and mechanisms for healing and DNA repair. One of the leading researchers was documented as MF, initials that Peter's mother shared. Based on recovered employee records, she also had the same date of birth. There was also some correspondence between her and a third party, referencing another project documented as 'CP'. About four years later, 616 was abandoned for undetermined reason, but that happens to be the same year Peter's parents died."

Stark set his mug on the table in front of him and then rubbed his whole face with both hands. "Damn. It's too early in the morning for this."

"You know what it's talking about," Oliver determined.

"Not exactly, but…" Stark hesitated, face still buried in his palms. "In my line of work, there are people who are into that sort of thing. Not good people."

"Yeah," Oliver and Barry exchanged a look. In their line of work too. Not surprising that Iron Man would be the same.

"Well, we're telling you what we know," Oliver went on, "so how about you return the favor, eh?"

Stark dropped his hands and lifted his face. There were black circles under his eyes, made more apparent now that he no longer had rage to hold him up.

"You know Captain America? Mr. Stars and Stripes? Frisbee shield, silly uniform, kicks people a lot? He got that way because of a test tube. And the test tube…it's not always reliable. We lucked out with Steve Rogers, but he's only one man. Plenty of attempts have been made to refine the formula. If I'm not wrong, Harrison Wells also attempted to perfect the formula, and probably worked with the wrong people. Peter's mother probably got caught up in the mess."

Oliver looked at Barry. "Or, Peter's mother _was_ the wrong people herself."

Stark suddenly punched the table. If he broke his hand, he did not show it, but the noise was loud enough that everyone except Oliver startled. It was clear he had already thought of this too, and just chose not to mention it.

"Damn it, Peter!" he hissed, and then stood up. "Where is he? Where did he and that police guy go?"

"Hey, uh," Felicity pushed her glasses up nervously, "not to…provoke you or anything, but you look properly scary right now, yeah? That's great and all, but I think the kid's frightened enough as it is. How about we wait until Joe brings him back? Let him drink his hot cocoa? Joe wasn't kidding. His hot cocoa is the best."

"That kid's too dumb to be scared of me." But Stark sat back with a defeated sigh.

"What  _are_ you two anyway?" Cisco suddenly decided to ask. "How are you two related?"

"We're not. He's my intern."

"Um, this whole night? Not something between a boss and an intern."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry for not living up to your soap opera standards, but that's all we are."

Cisco turned to Barry and made an 'Is he for real?' face.

Barry did not want to delve into  _that_ particular mess. He took out his cell phone to text Joe.

"Do you think you'll be able to find out for sure, through your contacts?" Oliver asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

Joe replied to Barry with a simple emoji depicting the sign for OK.

"They're on their way here," Barry announced. "Are you gonna leave now?"

"Yeah," Stark said flatly. "Think we've stayed long enough as it is."

* * *

Peter was pretty certain that everyone, including Mr. Stark, could tell that he had been crying the entire time in the kitchen. His eyelids  _feel_ puffed up and red, and his sinuses felt heavy and gross.

"It's all gonna turn out okay," the police captain, Joe, kept saying. "You'll see. It's no fun when an adult is mad at you, no matter how old you are. Hell, even I get anxious when someone gets mad at me. Don't matter who it is. But Tony Stark was just worried about you, that's all. He's not gonna stay mad at you. The most important thing is, you're okay, you're safe, and as long as those two things are true, you can move on from it. Trust me, you'll both move on."

Peter had shrugged. "Yeah, he'll probably fire me." Would Mr. Stark take away Peter's suit again for this? Technically, Peter had not been using the suit, so it was not like that would be the right punishment, but would he?

"I don't know, son," Joe had seemed skeptical. "I don't think you're really in a position he can fire you from."

Peter was not sure what Joe meant by that, but then Joe did not know that Peter was Spider-Man, so maybe it did not matter.

Mr. Stark had met Peter amidst a lot of talk that Peter could not make sense out of. Fortunately, he no longer seemed angry, but he was very eager to leave, and Peter felt like he got caught in a whirlwind of conversation and movement as Mr. Stark gathered Peter in front of him to walk out toward the main lobby.

"Yeah, yeah I'll keep you guys updated—Harrison Wells, right? MF and 616 and something about radiation poisoning. They're always trying something, these geneticists and bioengineers. We'll keep in touch. Catherine Snow?"

"Caitlin."

"Whatever. And Sissy Raymond? The years 2002 through 2006—"

"Cisco Ramon. And if you can find out—"

"—Yeah, and CP, whatever that is. Maybe they meant candlepower? Control program? Cerebral palsy? Look, no promises, because—"

"—we understand—"

"—some of these government folks, you know? Red tape, all of that, and if they catch you snooping—"

"—Yeah, but it would be helpful—"

"Yeah, yeah." And they were out in the darkness, well before dawn. Mr. Stark let go of Peter's shoulders to step into his Iron Man suit.

"That's sick," Cisco exclaimed in appreciation. "Dude—"

"Yup, been there, done that. Look, folks, thanks for taking care of the kid, really appreciate it. When you have a chance, come swing by New York City and I can show you around, get like New York pizza and all those important New York experiences. Yeah, thanks. Bye now."

"Wait—" Peter squawked, because Iron Man was bending over and bending one arm behind Peter's legs while the other wrapped around his shoulder. "I can just—"

"Bye Stark," Oliver called out with his hands in his pockets, while Iron Man lifted Peter up, bridal style, and with a blast of the repulsors, shot into the air.

Peter wrapped his arms around Iron Man's neck, shuddering against the harsh draft. It was so cold.

Iron Man adjusted his hold a little, though this did not make it any less freezing.

"Hang in there, buddy," Mr. Stark murmured. "You're okay. Gonna get you home and let you sleep. We'll talk in the morning, 'kay?"

Peter did not want to talk, but he supposed there was no avoiding it now. He buried his face into Iron Man's shoulder and closed his eyes to endure.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks passed.

Tony Stark provided no updates, which was somewhat expected given what everyone was suspecting and the mother bear inside him, so Barry reached out to Tony Stark with what they had found on their end.

_—Mary Parker née Fitzpatrick appeared to have been involved with the US government. Her role is unclear. She appeared to have had outgoing transmissions to a laboratory in Los Angeles. Interestingly, much of the discourse included references in German and Russian. The transmissions included preliminary data that was not publishable at the time, references to winter, genetic splicing, and hydras. Would appreciate any insight, as we are cataloging the projects done here following the death of Harrison Wells, so any input would be useful. Yours truly, —_

Stark's reply was to the point.

_—Thanks for the update. Turns out, story's not that interesting; MF-P was a scientist working with NIH. She was collaborating with labs in Germany and Russia but died before finishing the project. Not as soap opera as all that, but for the best. Yours, —_

Cisco had it on good authority that Mary Parker was not working with the NIH because she was never registered in their database when they first looked her up, though when they checked again, there she was, innocently smiling in her profile picture. She looked a lot like Peter.

So Barry tried again.

_—Good to know. Interestingly, we found out right before we got your email that MF-P was a CIA agent. Did you know that? Thanks, —_

Tony Stark called Barry's phone about ten minutes later.

_"You're not gonna let this one go, are you, Mr. Allen?"_

"I'm trained in forensic science and worked with the CCPD before taking over STAR Labs, or whatever was left of it. When something doesn't make sense, I tend to try to make sense of it."

 _"Yeah,"_ Stark muttered,  _"that curiosity. Son of a gun."_

"How's the kid?"

_"He's fine."_

Barry paused. "Is he in trouble?"

_"Not unless he looks for it."_

"Is someone he loves in trouble?" Barry frowned. "I don't know him as well as you do, Mr. Stark, but he's not gonna let this matter lie."

_"And neither will you, I take it."_

"This matter has to do with my lab," Barry pointed out. "Your kid made the effort of going all the way from New York to my city. I think we'd make more progress if we were up front with each other."

There was a long pause.

 _"Phone's not the best way to relate info,"_ Stark said.

"Meet in person, then?"

_"Know a great pizza place in West Village, Manhattan. Interested?"_

"Sure thing."

 _"See you in a flash."_ Stark then hung up.

Barry stared at his phone.  _Huh._ Well, two could play that game.

* * *

A pizzeria, even one good enough to host Tony Stark, was still no place to have sensitive conversation, so instead they talked about Peter.

"He wasn't the same ever since he came back," Stark stared at the steam rising off the cheese. "Didn't think much of it; no one's been the same. Even the ones left behind."

Barry could relate. His whole team had been Snapped, whereas Oliver Queen's team had all been spared. The whole thing was difficult to make sense of, and even now, it was difficult to believe all of that had happened; it was so quick, so against the laws of logic. In the intervening years, so much has changed, and all they could do was scramble and try to catch up.

"He used to be such a chatterbox," Tony went on. "You can't get him to shut up. But he's just so full of life, so young and hopeful, and  _so_ smart. Even back then, I couldn't believe he was real. I didn't think someone like him could exist. And he's had his share of tragedy; you know about his parents, and his Uncle had died not long before the Snap, not long before he became…well, none of that got him down. Someone like me, stuck dealing with the likes of Thaddeus Ross and those numbskulls more interested in greasing their pockets than protecting lives, sometimes I wonder if there's even any point, and then he came into my life and I actually have hope for humanity. We produced something like him. Somehow."

Tony Stark seemed tired up close. Without erecting that public persona, he seemed smaller, weary, and sad. Much of it, Barry could tell, was because of Peter. Stark tried to keep his tones acerbic, but his love for the boy was overflowing, pouring out between the syllables with every flicker of his eyes, billowing with every intake of breath. He clearly viewed Peter with wonder and tenderness.

Based on Stark's description, the kid had not come back right.

"Now he still talks your ear off, but it's not the same" the man went on, looking at the window, and no amount of snark could hide how hearbroken he was. "Before, it's because he just had so many ideas, he's so full of enthusiasm, he's so ready to take on the world. My God, he was so eager to go out there and explore. Now, he's…scared. He's skittish. He says a lot without saying anything at all and he uses the chatter as a shield. He used to be an open book, and now he—he's still clearly lying, or hiding, he's got no poker face whatsoever, but you can't squeeze anything substantial out of him. Offer to sit down and talk; he scuttles away. Threaten to take away his…his privileges, he just shuts down and accepts it."

"Do you think he saw something? Learned something while he was…gone?"

"He initially said that he didn't remember anything. That all he remembered was 'getting dusty' and feeling like he must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, he was…back. He could have been lying at the time, but I doubt it. Kid's an open book, as I said. Did he start remembering afterwards? Maybe, but you were one of the Decimated. Do  _you_ remember anything?"

Barry shook his head solemnly. He also felt like no time had passed between before and after. All of the sudden, the world jumped ahead by five years.

Barry was Flash, and worked with time and relativity, so he and his team had some recognition of the phenomenon. Those like Stark, and especially a kid like Peter, probably would not, so this alone might explain some of Peter's behavior.

But Barry had been doing this sort of thing long enough to know when there was more going on.

"Thanos killed everyone before you brought us back," Barry reminded Stark. "Maybe Peter spoke to his parents directly."

"Some parents," Stark snapped, "making their own son cry all the time and go on late night escapades that can get him killed!" Barry could practically see the mother bear rearing up. "Eat your pizza before it gets cold."

The pizzeria ended with Stark continuing to vent more than anything, but they commenced with real conversation once they got into Stark's car, driven by Happy, Stark's head of security and trusted confidante.

"We're gonna take you on a special tour around Manhattan," Stark stated as he joined Barry in the back of the limo and shut the door. Once they were sealed in, though, it was evident that Stark had no intention of letting Barry pay attention to the areas they were going through.

"Peter's parents were traitors," Stark said without preamble. "They were scientists who sold secrets to foreign organizations, including the recently dissolved Hydra. Many of their exploits were disastrous, and the consequences can still be felt today. Public word was that they died in a plane accident, and that's what Peter was told. Actually, the CIA had the plane sabotaged.

"Kid that smart, and son of two such promising agents, bound to have eyes on him. Word gets out that his parents were responsible for all the tragedy across the world, Peter and those he loves will be a target. Reason Peter doesn't know? CIA killed off his parents without a trial. Had to be done, time being sensitive and all that, but, can't have someone like him get ideas either. He's…he's such a good kid. This will crush him, either way, whether it's parents who are psychopaths or parents who were killed by a government meant to protect him. You get what's at stake, Allen?"

"…Yeah," Barry said slowly, because he was remembering the teenager who had genuinely meant no harm, just wanted answers. A kid who was innocent, yet suffered so much already. Barry had been like that, once. He had Joe to protect him.

Tony Stark was the equivalent of Peter's Joe.

The pizzeria was a necessary prelude to this information. Stark had manipulated the execution beautifully. Even knowing what he did, Barry could not help but want to protect this boy, almost as much as Stark himself clearly did.

"He's going to find out eventually, though," he said to Stark. "I agree, now's not the best time. Not with everything going on. But he's smart, and he's caught wind of this, either way. It's gonna bug him. And even if he doesn't dig it out on his own, the truth is there. It's out there, and someone out there knows. You don't want him finding out the story from someone else, or worse, hearing their version."

"I have it handled."

"Do you?" Barry challenged, because someone needed to. "He came to Central City at two a.m. in the morning, Mr. Stark. He broke into my compound. If I were less generous, I could have pressed charges. He could have gotten in a lot of trouble. Is that what you call handling it?"

Stark looked away. "I appreciate your concern, but I have contingency plans. Peter…Peter is mine. You didn't say anything I haven't already heard or thought of before. The matter stands: Peter cannot know about his parents, and the fewer people know, the safer he'll be. As for the 616 business," Tony tapped his knee, "That is the real reason you're here. I do have something for you."

The Starkpad seemed to materialize out of nowhere. It had to be some kind of personal model, or military grade, because this sort of technology was not on the market. Not even for research purposes, or else STAR labs would have had it too. Tony brought up a hologram in front of him and siphoned several documents over to Barry without even needing to move the pad.

The man's technological genius was unequaled. Cisco would have a fit.

"Several files in Uncle Sam's database related an Earth-616 and some kind of entity known as Subject B, caught 'trespassing' along the US-Mexican border. Of note, the files mentioned labs, including DNA PCR sequencing, which brings us to Mary Parker née Fitzpatrick's little project involving DNA replication and stability."

"She was trying to maintain the specimens," Barry realized.

Subject B was never referred to by any sort of name. There was no mention of gender, though they clearly had one, due to some mentions of genitalia. They also seemed to possess great strength and reflexes as well as healing and regenerative abilities. However, any attempt to study them was foiled because once samples left the individuals body, they broke down.

Until Mary Parker came up with a solution.

"Harrison Wells' particle accelerator's model looked a little like this," Barry noted.

"As it is, it's probably the most reliable refrigerator ever made by man. Can freeze Walt Disney for like five billion years and he'd wake up as good as he went in."

"This doesn't seem…espionage material."

"Didn't say this was. It was one of her covers. As far as I know, her freezer was a coverup for her real projects. This one happened to be somewhat related; they were using samples of Subject B to try to enhance soldiers."

It did not work, based on the documents. Many died within minutes. Others declined over days. The ones that survived were crippled.

"So they sold it as biological weapons," Stark elaborated. "Fortunately, US agents caught wind of it, stopped the transport of the solutions and destroyed them. The Parkers continued with their sordid business until the plane crash, most of which was not at STAR labs, but there you go."

"Can't believe these two produced such a sweet kid," Barry murmured.

"Yeah," Stark muttered. "It's no thanks to them. His aunt and uncle were angels. Raised him with strong principles. See, either way, if he takes it well, if he doesn't…more likely he'd feel like he's somehow responsible for his parents' mistakes, and I can't have him living with that." The man rubbed his face in distress. "I just can't. Kid's been through enough.

Stark dropped him off at Penn Station, where the two exchanged goodbyes outside the car. Above, Barry saw New York City's famous webslinger swing up and stick to the side of a building.

"Oh, hey," Barry glanced up. "It's Spider-Man."

Stark whirled around, following his gaze, and swore under his breath. His face morphed into a stern countenance, similar to the expression he wore on the night he had picked Peter up.

Anyone else might have missed it, but Barry had not lost his skills as a CSI.

"Is school even out yet?" he remarked when Stark turned back around.

Stark's face became very neutral, lacking even the friendliness it had when he was saying goodbye.

"Don't want to miss the train now," he stated in clear dismissal. "Tell Oliver I said hello."

"I'm sure you'll run into him before I do."

Stark slid on his glasses and drew back into the car. "Either way. Happy? Let's go."

* * *

Peter had told his aunt that he was staying over at Ned's, so when Mr. Stark brought him back to New York, he allowed Peter to stay at the lakehouse.

"You can just take me home. I can handle it."

"It's not the yelling I'm worried about, though God knows you deserve it," said the man. "It's the fact that I know you'd slide out the window the moment she tries to sleep. You're not going anywhere with FRIDAY in the house. So stay put, get some shut eye, and we'll talk when you wake up."

Peter did not sleep. The seconds ticked by. He felt wretched and wan after the long day and night. Too many things happened. Too many things were happening. He was afraid of what the day would bring.

When morning did come, though, Mr. Stark did not yell at Peter.

What happened was much worse.

"We need to talk," said the man, when Peter joined the family at the breakfast table. Morgan was wide-eyed and quiet, much more subdued than her usual. Mrs. Stark was appropriately engaging, indicating Peter's seat and his share of the meal, but she withdrew when her husband took over, ducking her head down to concentrate on her own plate.

Mr. Stark folded his hands together next to his untouched plate. "Pete, this can't go on.

"Ever since you came back, you've been messed up. It's fine. We were all messed up. Pepper and I weren't even blipped, or Snapped, or whatever it was that you kids call it these days, and we were messed up. We are still messed up. What happened wasn't okay. And you know what, that's okay. It's okay to not be okay. I figured, I'll give you some time, some space, get your act together, we all need to adjust, it's a big adjustment, and you know what, that's the whole point. Now you have time, when you didn't before.

"But what happened last night?

"That wasn't just…being gone…for five years. That wasn't just being in the fight for the universe and barely surviving. Most of all, that wasn't an impulse decision; you planned this out with your friend Ted and you went  _out of your way_ to make sure no adult knew. Even your friend didn't know the whole story.

"Barry Allen told me you said that your parents had something to do with STAR Labs. I understand having questions and seeking answers, Peter. I also understand that the less willing people are to talk about things, the more you need to know. I'm the same way. What I  _don't_ understand is: why all the secrets, Pete? You went out of your way to leave your phone at home, you left your suit, you left anything that could help trace you that you knew of so you could go hundreds of miles without anyone knowing where you're going or whether to find you if you go missing. Why?"

"How did you track me without my suit or cell phone?" Peter wondered.

"Not the point," Mr. Stark glared. " _So_ not the point. And I asked you a question."

"It's none of your business."

Mr. Stark slammed the table.

Morgan jumped in her seat, her little face paling. Peter himself was shaken, but if anything, his jaws clenched tighter. Mr. Stark's eyes were closed, his expression schooled, but a vein pulsed on his forehead, betraying his temper.

Almost a minute passed before the man moved. He inhaled first, and spoke, without opening his eyes.

"Peter, I can't pretend to be a good role model, or a good mentor by any means. And I know I'm not your Uncle Ben, or your father—I'm a garbage replacement for either, and I don't intend to try. I don't mind if you don't want to confide in me, if this isn't something you want to come to me for."

He then opened his eyes and looked at Peter.

"But what concerns me is that you haven't gone to  _anyone_ about this. Not your aunt. Not even your friend Fred. That. That is very alarming to me."

None of what he said so far were questions, so Peter kept his silence. Even if they were questions, he was not certain if he would have answered.

"Peter, you know I'm always on your side," Mr. Stark's eyes became bright, and he made a motion with his hands like he wanted to reach out, but restrained the impulse before it could fully fire. "No matter what is going on, I'm on  _your_ side. I might yell at you, and I'm sorry if…if anything I did before made you feel like…like I'm not on your side. You're a  _good kid_. The best. I didn't—I didn't know there could be kids as good as you. So, whatever is going on—whatever you might be involved in, I'll always be on your side. No matter how it looks, to you or to anyone else. Are you with me?"

Peter stared blankly, feeling scared and uncertain. He did not acknowledge the statements one way or another.

"Are you in trouble?"

_Murderers._

_Liars._

**_Traitors._ **

Peter made an odd noise, one he was not even sure how to interpret, but somehow Mr. Stark seemed to understand. His back straightened and his brows furrowed.

"No, it's not like that," Peter said hastily, but it was too late.

"Is someone threatening you? Something?"

"No!"

Mr. Stark watched for a moment.

"Peter," he said slowly, "what are you trying to find out about your parents? I can help—"

"I don't need your help," Peter scooted the chair back to stand. "You should focus on your own kid—"

"Is that what this is about? Is this some sort of sibling rivalry—"

"No! What? Morgan's not my—"

"Then what is it? Why the sudden interest in digging up your parents? Was it something you saw at the reversal—"

Peter covered his eyes. "No! Just leave me alone! I want to go home!"

The silence that followed was heavy and cold. Peter still had his hands over his eyes, so he could not see Morgan staring at him, but he could feel it. Could hear her little beating heart, rapid with trepidation.

When he dared to look up, Morgan was looking between everyone, her tiny face pale and eyes wide as saucers. Mrs. Stark was looking at Mr. Stark, who was looking at Peter with a stony expression.

"Alright," he said abruptly. "You wanna go home? We'll take you home. Pep, call Happy and tell him to get the car ready."

Peter clenched his fists. For some reason, Mr. Stark's sudden compliance did not make him feel better. There was a trick, somewhere. He was planning something.

He always had a plan. He was Iron Man after all.

* * *

Unlike Tony, May did yell at Peter.

"If you lie to  _me_ ," she seethed, "who can you tell the truth to? Answer me! If you can't even tell  _me_ the truth, who  _won't_ you lie to? I raised you, I nursed you when you were sick, I know you inside and out, watched you grow, protected you just as your uncle had. Your parents are gone. Your uncle is gone. Who else can you count on to be so thoroughly on your side? Who can you trust _more_ than me? And you  _lied_ to me! Who do you think  _I_ have, if something were to happen to you? I don't ask a lot of questions. I don't demand that you tell me where you are every second of the day. I don't ask you to account for the allowance I give you every week, the times when you stay after school, because I  _trusted_ you! Is this going to be a thing now? You, flat out lying to my face about where you're going and what you're doing? How am I supposed to trust anything else you say from now on?"

As Tony had said, Peter deserved every bit of that tongue-lashing, but May Parker would give even Pepper a run for her money, and even though he was just as angry as she, he felt just a little sorry for the boy.

But not very sorry, because at some point since Peter's return from the Snap, the brat learned to talk back.

"It's not like I'm some five-year-old kid who's completely helpless on my own!" he defended. "I've fought major bad guys! I've lifted an entire building, for crying out loud! I helped bring down Thanos! I'm not some little  _kid!_ "

He really was such a little kid. Never mind the muscles that could probably crush an elephant's femur, Peter Parker had seemed smaller every year since he had died, and now, Tony could hardly believe he had ever been so irresponsible as to bring this child, then just fifteen years old, all the way to Berlin for a clash of ideologies. Never mind that the people involved had all been principled, honorable folks who were simply fighting for what they believed in and would never stoop to hurt someone on purpose, but Rhodey had been paralyzed from the waist down and nearly died, and he had been a functioning adult who knew what he was getting into. Peter had not even known what the quarrel was about. He was so young then, and he was still young, here in this room, terrified of the two adults he had scared the daylights out of.

Not that he blamed May for being so irate. It was so frustrating to watch this boy hurt like this and feel so lonely, and yet withdraw so completely when everyone tried to reach out.

"He cries every night," May told Tony quietly when they sent the boy to his room to allow everyone to cool down. "I try to listen at the door, but he's really quiet. The only reason I know is because his eyelids are all puffy in the morning."

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. "What did Peter  _see?_ " he lamented. "I think he should see a therapist."

"He's not going to cooperate."

"He still should see someone though."

May covered her face with a shaky sigh.

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Tony promised. "We didn't bring him back just so we can lose him again."

But that was tricky, of course, because Tony was also keeping things from May, and while it was necessary that she never know about her in-laws' true nature, it certainly made everything all the more complicated.

"I wish Ben were here," May sighed. "He always knew how to talk to Peter."

Tony felt a stab in his chest. He was not quite envious of Ben—that was far too silly. He did not even necessarily wish he could replace the man. Not really. But he did wish he could provide what this Ben Parker had clearly once provided for Peter: that sanctuary, the inside jokes that May would occasionally reference. Five years ago, that had seemed like a possibility, but Tony had been too self-absorbed and distracted by his fears of the impending threats to appreciate the opportunity. Now, there was a rift between him and the teen, one that was wider than Tony had ever aimed for, even back when he had somewhat resented the clingy, idol-worshipping child and half-regretted inviting a potential nuisance into his life. Not for the first time, Tony wondered if he had been just a little less full of his own importance, allowed himself to get close to this wonder of a human being back then, he and May would not be whispering to each other right now, both worried out of their minds about the boy sulking in his room. Probably crying. Again.

"We'll figure it out," Tony promised again, setting aside his not-so-noble feelings about a long-dead man. "You're not alone in this. Neither of you are. You have me. You have a team that's all willing to look out for the little spiderling. Peter might not know it, but he has some powerful friends. And we're not going to let whatever this is hurt him and get away with it."

* * *

"Should have figured. I mean, look at it!" Cisco was pointing at the screen as Barry entered the room, mind still stewing over his conversation with Tony Stark. "This screams dumpster-diver all over it, and that one screams Iron Man, trademark. You think he swung here?"

Joe turned, having heard Barry's footsteps. "Hey," he raised his cup of coffee. "How'd it go with the Man in the Iron Suit?"

"Learned some interesting things," Barry squinted at the screens. "Why are we watching video footage of old and new Spider-Man?"

"Just reviewing all the clues that he's actually a teenage kid," Cisco replied lightly, tapping on the frozen shot of the one with the red and blue hoodie. "This one doesn't even qualify as a superhero costume. It doesn't even qualify as  _a_ costume. It's just a bad outfit."

"When'd you become a fashion expert?" Caitlin teased.

"Ouch. Doesn't take a fashion expert to tell when something's scrapped together from random stuff in the closet."

"Oh, he's definitely the same person," Barry sniffed when a waft of Joe's coffee floated up his nose. "Ooh. What flavor is that?"

"Cashew mocha."

" _Cashew?_ Huh."

"Right?"

"Wait, did Stark confirm that?" Cisco spun around. "Is that one of the interesting things you learned?"

"No, but yes. Saw the webslinger himself, sticking to the side of buildings— _really_ weird, by the way, he really does it like a bug. Spider." Barry shakes his head. "I know spiders aren't bugs, but they cling to the sides of buildings the same way, and he was perched, like," he clawed his fingers up and tilted his hand to the side, but it did not quite capture the impression.

He gave up. "Anyway, Mama Bear's the same old Mama Bear. Kind of unfair, really, because he knows I'm the Flash, clearly, but as soon as I make a point of saying that Spidey's his little protégé, you'd think I were threatening to spray the kid with insecticide or something. It's not like we haven't been transparent with the man. What a jerk."

Joe coughed in laughter. "Cut him some slack. You're not a dad, kiddo. I know you can take care of yourself, but when you were a fifteen, sixteen-year-old kid, if you'd suddenly ran like a hundred or so miles away from home without telling anyone, all by yourself, and were clearly upset and distressed, I wouldn't be the nicest guy to any adult who comes along asking me questions about stuff that might threaten your safety. He can wrap himself up in a suit at a moment's notice and shoot you into tiny bits. The fact that he hasn't shows that he doesn't really question your intentions; he's just high-strung. I would be too, if you were in trouble."

"What is up with that, though?" Cisco demanded. "I mean, those two seem pretty adamant that they're not related at all."

Joe and Barry shrugged simultaneously.

"They're probably really confused," said Joe. "They probably should have had a talk. Figure out how to define their relationship, whether they agree on what they are to each other. Hard to do with a teenager."

"Hey," Barry exclaimed, feeling a little triggered. "I wasn't that bad."

"Well you weren't a teenager when I got you," Joe pointed out, "and I didn't say _you_ were difficult as a teen. If anything, Iris was."

"Well that kid seems like he's in a bad way," Barry conceded, feeling appeased. "He was Snapped. And it seems like when he came back, he had trouble adjusting. Stark implied that he kind of underwent a personality change."

"Like PTSD?" Caitlin raised her eyebrows.

"Like PTSD."

"Well, Spider-Man was in the Battle of the Gauntlet right?" Caitlin pointed at the frozen frames on the screen. "Probably saw more than he could process."

"That would definitely mess a kid up," Cisco nodded.

"Did you get anything else?" Caitlin asked. "Other than the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man being a…Friendly Neighborhood Spider…child?"

"Tony Stark casts a wide net," Barry replied, and related to the others about what he learned.

"Whoa," said Cisco, once all was said. "That's a lot to hide from someone."

"Explains why all our digging didn't turn anything up," Caitlin noted thoughtfully.

"How involved do you think Eobard Thawne was in all of this?"

"Hard to say," Barry murmured, taking a sip of Joe's cashew mocha to taste it. "Could be a lot. Could be a little. Might be like Wernher von Braun, only interested in the one thing and not the ethics or politics around it; in his case, getting me my powers and making it back to his own time. I gotta try this flavor, by the way. Didn't figure cashews would be so good in this."

"Mmhmm."

"So do we stop here, then?" Cisco asked. "Is this kind of out of our hands? I mean, if that's the story, it kind of sounds like the Avengers have it covered."

"I don't know," Barry confessed. "I suppose there's no harm it sitting out of this one. The Parkers are dead. Their research, for better or worse, is all dispersed around the globe. There are people in the know who are keeping track. As long as it doesn't affect our city, I think we can afford to play this one by ear."

"Didn't you vibe and see Iron Man and Spider-Man coming down here though?" Joe reminded Cisco.

Cisco was initially nodding at Barry's words, but at this, he frowned.

"Yeah."

"Maybe they already did?" Caitlin blinked. "I mean, not all of your…premonitions…need to be a huge crisis, right? It could be as innocuous as getting a kid back to his parents. Guardians. Whatever they are."

"Family," Barry clarified.

"Maybe," Cisco murmured, but he looked dubious.

Joe and Barry exchanged a look.

"We'll play it by ear," Joe said.

They might have to get involved, somehow. But, "Yeah," Barry agreed. "For now."


End file.
